4 Roses Need Pruning

After twenty minutes, the oven timer beeped telling me the food was done, and with it, I got out two plates from my cabinet before dishing us both dinner. The savory smell of the salmon must have wafted its way towards the bathroom, because not shortly after, I heard the click of the door. Taking a deep breath and mentally preparing my expressions, I turned to greet her with a welcoming attitude.

My eyes violently bulged from my sockets before I coughed roughly, completely startled. Setting down the plates, I immediately rushed to my room to grab clothes, my face red as I blushed in embarrassment as I searched for a baggy shirt and pajama pants.

Tipping my head out of my doorway, I calmed myself down as I saw her- no, him- sitting on the undirtied side of the couch with the towel wrapped around his waist. The heat gathering in my face felt cold against the AC of the condo, and I wanted to slap myself in the head that I had been mistaking him for a girl this whole time. Sure, his face was pretty, and he had long hair, and his chest-

Internally, I felt something in me crumble to dust as chalked bitterness made me want to laugh ironically. Well, leave it to a flat-chested gal to assume a dude with long hair was a girl too. This whole time I thought he was just a handsome woman- even his build was slim- just the way he carried himself was more elegant than me. Crying internally, I worked up the courage to return to the living room as if I was completely unfazed.

"I'm so sorry I forgot to grab you clothes," I tried to save. "I'll put yours in the wash right away."

Retreating to the bathroom, I was delighted to see he had neatly folded his clothes and placed them on the towel which was set on the floor. With a little picking up, I did as I promised and put the clothes in the washer and ran him a separate load, my mind finally returning to its senses.

It wasn't safe to have a stranger in your house- much less a random, currently nonverbal, man who may be in need of professional medical attention. Stationed in the kitchen, I made the small proactive decision to grant myself a steak knife with my food and give him a butter knife. Realistically, I knew it wouldn't make much a difference if something dangerous did happen, but against an injured person? I liked my chances.

Though it wasn't much, it was enough to keep me feeling safe in my home. And besides, if I didn't respond to any of my emails for more than a day, I was sure Mr. Han would come to look for my dead body.

Bringing the plates to the dining table, it was strangely nice to have someone else sitting there. That notion, however, was snuffed out as I saw him looking at the opened pamphlet on the table, his expression stiff. I hadn't realized it before, but my mind shifted back to his panic that I had bandaged him up, and I suddenly realized why he seemed so nervous.

As I set the plate down in front of him, I sat across from him and picked up the pamphlet before sighing tiredly, completely exhausted. The heavy, dark feeling nestled itself on the tip of my tongue as I struggled with what to say, knowing that my words would be the first of mine to ever admit that I was... not who I was just yesterday.

"Sorry if I make you uncomfortable," Is what I chose to start out with. "I just manifested my secondary gender today, so I was trying to learn about it..."

While before I had saved myself from rambling, now, I was unable to stop.

"I can call for someone else if you're worried- I would understand if you were nervous about being alone with an..." My voice hitched in my throat for a second before I coughed it back down, my gaze empty as I started to poke at my dinner, my appetite completely gone.

"... Alpha." The words sounded small even for me, and my right hand immediately rose to cradle my tender forehead. I bit my tongue as I felt the urge to pour out everything to him- that, for my first rut, all I really felt was nauseated, and that I also wasn't the type of person to get involved with an injured person- much less an nonconsenting person. Yet, I kept them locked behind my teeth, because to some, wouldn't those words just sound like excuses?

I knew it wouldn't help anything, but I drastically wanted to burn the pamphlet, even though I needed it. I wanted to throw away my medicine too, and most pathetically of all, I wanted to punish this body as if my hormones had some separate sentience.

"I don't want to be an..." Alpha. Say it- Rubbing my hands on my thighs, I let out a nervous chuckle before pressing on.

"...Like this."

Again, I blinked back to reality as my thoughts poured out, the words already growing too worn though I've only said them a handful of times today. At that, he seemed to relax slightly- perhaps now, it was his turn to pity me instead?

Picking up my fork, my eyes flicked back to my steak knife with a sense of guilt, realizing once again how hypocritical I was being. Somehow, I couldn't help but think it said something about me- perhaps more now that I wasn't the Aisha Yanaka I still perceived myself to be within the palace of my mind. I tried to avoid his gaze as I started eating, desperately trying to keep myself together though I wanted, once again, to melt into a pool of dramatic emotions uncharacteristic to myself.

"So you've been a Beta all this time?" My fork dropped the salmon I was piercing at the sound of his voice, my face once again flustered by the new development. So he could actually say anything other than 'no' and 'hospital'. Hearing his voice so clearly unlike in the alleyway, I knew now that if he had spoken as clearly back then, I wouldn't have mistaken him for a girl for even a second. His voice was smooth and rich- not necessarily low or 'masculine' in the rigid sense; but it reminded me of how I pictured the beautiful carvings of Michelangelo to talk. Like whispering wind, or maybe how people described the voices of sirens; it was soft and lyrical, and his faint, faint accent only made me want to listen to him more.

"Yes. 20 years of being a Beta." And it all changed in the span of a few hours, I finished to myself.

At that, he was quiet for a moment, his brow conflicted. While we continued to eat in silence, I didn't have it in me to generate pointless conversation. Ultimately, the man in front of me was an adult. If he needed help, he would ask, right? Perhaps it was due to the touching of my sour topic that I suddenly grew disinterested in him.

Oddly, it dawned on me that this is my first interaction with someone who knows I'm an Alpha- whose mental profile of me will have connotations beyond my control. At least as a Beta, I had more potential to create my own image... But could I say the same now? Just by knowing I was an Alpha, he seemed uncomfortable- or maybe a better word would be afraid?

Redirecting my gaze back to him, I tried to discern his expressions with little success. The crease of his eyes, the tilt of his brow- I somehow found myself once again pondering if he really was a man- no, a human; and not some strange fae creature. My cheeks heated up with shame that I couldn't even focus on one serious thought- even more so that I had resorted to some childish daydreams.

It was my internal embarrassment that prompted me to check my watch to see if I needed to retake my medication- and indeed it was. He would probably be uncomfortable if he had to smell my pheromones- not that they would be very strong for such a late bloomer like me. It was awkward; both of our silverware scraping against the plates as we ate in silence. Maybe he was just that hungry? Maybe he was still thinking out what he was going to do?

Deciding that was it, I gathered out plates together after we both finished and put them into the sink, once again practicing my constraint.

"I don't know what your situation is, but I'm available to help you if you need it."

The sound of my words mingled with the sound of the faucet running as I covered the dishes with soapy water to be washed tomorrow morning, my mind circling between him and my medicine like a vulture to roadkill.

"Thank you." He spoke, short and sweet. "I'm not uncomfortable here- I'm a beta too so I'm not affected by your rut anyways."

Somehow, his sentence was contradictory. Ignoring that however, I felt a weight fall from my shoulders as he said that; and with it came the confidence to take the third dose of my medicine without as much hate.

Holding the pamphlet in my hands, I walked towards my bedroom door as it finally kicked in how drained I was: physically and mentally. Though I didn't want to leave a stranger alone with my belongings; looking around, I didn't have anything worth much to begin with. No art on the walls, no home office with important information, no family pictures or heirlooms laying about. The most valuable things I owned would be the clothes washer and dryer- not that an injured person would be able to carry those things out on his own.

Looking to the couch, I had almost completely forgotten that one of my cushions was completely ruined from his blood- but I was too on edge to let him stay in my room.

As if sensing my discomfort, he rose from his seat at the dining table before walking towards me, and though I hadn't noticed it before; there was a slight limp to his gate as he bowed his head customarily, his actions professional and humble.

"I don't have anywhere else to go yet, but you don't need to feel pressured to let me stay the night. You've already helped me enough- thank you for the meal..."

"Of course-"

"And I will reimburse you for the couch cushion I ruined- I have an internship interview in two days and hope to have the means to repay you in full then."

His words caused me to startle once again, my thoughts suddenly worried that maybe I had initially miscalculated his age, as well as his gender.

What if he was younger than I thought? Would it be okay of me to turn someone his age out on the streets? If I asked his age now before letting him stay, would that make me look like a creep?

"Well I appreciate that, but you don't need to worry about it. I'm not the type to make an injured person with nowhere to stay go to the streets, nor make you pay me back for something I did on my own."

For a few moments, he stood there silently as if in deep thought, the silence between us more comfortable than the disjointed movements of conversation, but perhaps that was because we had skipped over something very important.

Digging into my pocket, I pulled out one of my business cards and extended it to him, offering my hand in exchange for a gentle handshake.

"I'm Aisha Yanaka, Chief Researcher and Director of the Advanced Materials Department at VYSA Inc. I don't think we ever introduced ourselves."

For a moment, his touch seemed hesitant- or perhaps it was simply because I felt insecure that it seemed that way, but looking at me once more with his straight gaze, the corner of his lips seemed to untense ever so slightly as he gave me a polite handshake.

"I'm-"

At that moment, my work phone began to ring loudly from my computer bag, the harsh drill-like ringtone cutting off his words. With an apologetic smile, I tiredly fumbled for my phone in the many zippers of my bag before accepting the call and raising it to my ear, prepared for one of my subordinates to ask me why I hadn't finished Friday's work since going MIA.

What I got instead, however, caused a tight knot to coil in my intestines, the muscles of my face extremely heavy as a damp sense of dread draped over me like a funeral veil.